Birthdays and Holes
by wingedraksha
Summary: Set midX3. Pyro has patrol duty, and it's fairly boring... until he runs across a certain Xette in a bit of a predicament... Kyro


On an ordinary day, this would never have happened. Honestly. I have no doubt that, on any other day, Fate wouldn't even have dared _think _of making something so ridiculous occur. But this wasn't an ordinary day. No matter how hard I tried to make it one, it just wasn't.

I turned eighteen today.

No one here knew that it was my birthday. I made sure of that. Actually, only two other people knew when my birthday was in the first place: Charles Xavier and Bobby Drake. And they weren't exactly lining up to give me presents, now were they? Not that that depressed me. Not a bit. What did I care? I didn't need anyone to tell me happy birthday, especially not here. Good God, imagine Mags or Misty whipping up a cake! Scary thought. I think Mystique would put rat poison in the batter, just for shits and giggles. She is one tough chick, our blue lady.

Anyway. I digress.

So today, despite my attempts to hide it, was not a normal day. Eighteen. Big step. Not really, but you know... I could legally smoke. Have a legitimate reason for carrying around a lighter the way I do. An adult. Cool.

And then, I got patrol duty. Yech. Wandering around the woods around our little commune in the mountains? No thanks. I'm a city boy, myself. I freely admit it. Sure, I was raised in Aussieland, but that doesn't mean I wrangle crocs or carry a bowie knife. Stupid Steve Irwin. So there I was, picking my way through the trees, maybe stringing along a few choice curses, when I heard it.

Singing.

I kid you not.

Okay, let me set the scene just a bit. We're up in the mountains, I believe I said. As in, trees, rocks, pygmies with funky accents, the whole deal. Maybe I was exaggerating the pygmy thing, but you understand. And we're the bad guys. Hear us roar. We don't sing. I don't sing. Magneto, I hope to God, does not sing. The lackeys do not sing, unless various bar songs count. And this was certainly not a bar song.

It was a wavering, girlish version of that mockingbird lullaby. You know, the one that's like, 'Hush, little baby, and don't say a word, Momma's gonna buy you a mockingbird...' Or something. And it was clear that the singer couldn't remember all the words, either, (honestly, who can?) because she would trail off, and then maybe substitute something in that made no sense, or just sing 'la la la' until she remembered the next verse.

I, being the experienced sneaky bad guy that I am, had deduced by that point that the singer was not one of ours. Sighing, I started following the voice. Who on earth could it possibly be? Who would come up here, of all places, and start singing lullabies?

I was getting fairly annoyed. It was my birthday, dammit! Nothing was supposed to be weird today. It was just supposed to pass like any other day, so I could get on with my life. And I hate patrol duty. With a vengeance. I like to actually be _doing_ something, not just wandering around looking at trees. Oh, look. A pine. Oh, look, another pine. Wait, is that poison oak vine climbing up two trees at once? You naughty infestation, you. This is what patrol duty reduces me to. Not a pretty sight. I should be burning something and acting all baddass, not making up soap operas about stupid goddamn vines.

And then, in the middle of that thought, the world dropped out from under me.

Well, not really, but that does sound more dramatic than 'I fell in a hole'. And in my defense, it was a pretty big hole. Deep. At least twelve feet. Me, I hover around six foot nothing. So twelve feet is not fun in the least. I landed hard on my back, ankle twisted painfully under me, breath whooshing out in an embarrassing 'oof!' noise that I pray never to make again.

When I opened my eyes and sat up with a muffled groan, the only thing I noticed right away was that there was a piercing pain in my ankle. I pulled it out from under me and hissed in a breath as it sang merrily about agony and hellfire. However, despite the pain, I didn't think it was broken. It wasn't at a weird angle, and I couldn't see any bones sticking out. I took a deep breath, put both palms against either side of the ankle, and pushed in. Wince. Ouch. But it worked, as it usually does, and I rotated my foot around with relief as the pain lessened.

Then, I noticed something else.

The singing? Was louder. In fact, it was coming from right behind me. I spun around on my butt, lighting the sweet little wrist igniter on my right hand that had been a gift upon my initiation, and stared in utter shock as I saw who was the cause of this predicament.

A small, dark-haired girl wearing jeans and a jacket, lying curled up against one wall of the hole, trembling slightly and singing to herself. Cute as a button. Familiar. Crazy?

"Kitty," I said, disbelieving. "Kitty Pryde?" She looked at me, and her eyes were unfocused and feverish. I saw sweat beading on her forehead. She giggled lightly, pointing in my general direction.

"You have blond hair now," she said deliriously, and then went back to singing lullabies. I gaped at her, then scooted over and put the back of my hand to her forehead. She was burning up, and not in a good way. I sat back on my heels, ignoring the twinge from my recently twisted ankle, and glanced up the long, long way to the top of the hole. Back to the obviously sick girl. Up. Gave a short, unbelieving laugh.

"Well, shit," I said, shaking my head. "How the hell did this happen?"

She didn't give me an answer.

Rolling my eyes, I stood and looked around the hole. Now, I recognized it. It was a trap, one of the oubliette-type things we'd dug when we first got here. Smooth sides, no footholds. And, since I was patrolling, no one to come find us for oh, two days?

"Great. Just great. Some fucking birthday." I turned to Kitty. "And how'd you even get here, sweetheart?" Sarcasm. Just so you know. "Hello?" I went over and crouched by her. "Come on. Snap out of it. You can phase us out, you know. It would be really easy. Come on, Kit-Kat, snap the hell out of it!"

So patience is not one of my virtues.

"Kitty. Kiiitty..." How _had_ she gotten here? Last contact we'd had with the X-Men had been Wolverine, trying to spy and help his ladylove. Dr. Grey. I shuddered, and forced thoughts of the woman who had once been my teacher out of my head. Best not even to think of that. And that had been what, two days ago? We were about to leave, anyway. How long had she been in this hole?

Suddenly, the girl grabbed me by the collar and yanked me down level with her. I lost my balance on my already-weak ankle, and sprawled down on the dirt with her still holding my shirt collar.

"Why'd you go," she asked, sounding somewhere between lucid and doped. I frowned. She wasn't letting go. I got to my knees and tried to pry her fingers away, but she was surprisingly strong. "Why'd you leave?"

"So, you, uh, you recognize me, huh?" Her eyes fogged over, and she loosened her grip. I uncurled her fingers one by one, dropping one hand and moving to the next one. As soon as I did, both hands darted back and regained their death grip. I sighed.

"Bobby? What am I doing here?"

"Fuck, no, I'm not Drake!" She shook her head confusedly.

"Bobby? Help me! It's all... I'm cold. I followed him. He needed help, right? 'Cause we X-Men, we stick... together... Logan? Is Logan all right?" Okay. Two plus two equals a nosy little girl following the big guy into severe danger, and while she was sick? What the hell? "Got... something... I think I'm sick, Bobby." Oh. Well, that explains it. So she'd been here for two days, no food, no water. And already sick. So that was why she hadn't just phased out. She couldn't keep it together enough to use her goddamn powers! Well, that did not bode well for yours truly.

"And stop calling me Bobby."

"Who are you?" She let go, cringing away. "What are you doing here?" Okay. So I don't like it when pretty girls, even sick pretty girls on the wrong side of a war, look at me like that. I may not be human, but I'm still a guy, after all. I grimaced and rubbed a hand down my face. Patience. Patience, John, patience.

"I'm John."

"Pyro," she said vaguely.

"Uh, yeah. Right."

"Get away from me," she cried suddenly, scooting back as much as she could. Her hair fell across her face, but it couldn't hide the sudden terror in her eyes. Well. That was a lot worse than the look she'd just been giving me. I felt a muscle in my jaw jump. I may be scary. I may be dangerous. But damn it, Kitty was... I _knew_ her! I'd seen her in her nightgown! I wasn't gonna...

Shit.

I hate moral dilemmas. I shouldn't have morals. They get in the way. I _don't _have morals, all right? Only reason I would possibly want to make her not afraid of me was because I needed her to get out of here.

Right.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, Kitty," I said as seriously as I could. I held out my hands. "Come on. It's okay. I'm not gonna do anything bad to you." _Just, you know, try to kill all your friends. Maybe even you, one day._

"Really?" Ah, God, she looked so small right then. I nodded, gulping. Why me? There was something funny going on in my stomach, and I didn't like it. It felt like... concern. I shivered. I didn't _care _about Kitty Pryde. No way.

Only that little curl of something erupted into an outright tidal wave of feeling when she started to cry, shoulders quaking, lips trembling, the whole shebang.

Oh. Shoot me. Please. Now. Anyone.

I actually crawled over and wrapped my arm around her and let her cry on my shoulder.

"I- I'm so _scared_," she hiccuped into my sleeve. "I'm all alone, and I'm lost, and I'm hu- hu- _hungry_, and-" She broke off into sobs. A bullet. Now. A noose? A razor? I'll take a razor!

"It's okay. Shh. It's okay. You're not alone. I'm here." No. I didn't just say that. I swear.

"But you're _bad_," she wailed. I rolled my eyes to the heavens and sucked in a deep breath. Calm. Must be calm.

"That's okay."

"No, it's not!"

"Yes it is."

"It's not, it's _not okay_!"

"Is too."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Is not!" I was about to respond with another witty rebuttal, but suddenly realized what we were saying. I looked down at Kitty's feverish, tearstreaked face. She wasn't crying anymore, at least. She looked as confused as I felt. So I did the only thing I could: I burst out laughing.

And to my utter surprise, she started chuckling too.

When we were done, I leaned my head against the dirt wall and clucked my tongue. Kitty was curled against my side, head on my shoulder, breathing slowly.

"Aw, hell," I muttered. How did I get myself into these situations? Trapped in a hole with Kitty Pryde, cackling our heads off because of a reversion to third grade.

"Don't leave me," she murmured. "I don't want to be alone again." I snorted.

"Like I could." She seemed to accept that, which was good. I didn't want to get guilted into promising her anything.

When I opened my eyes again, I was on my back in the hole, freezing my ass off. Grunting, I sat up and rubbed my aching ankle.

"Don't move," I heard from my right. I looked. Kitty was sitting, too, shakily, but much steadier than last night. She still looked ill, but her eyes were clear. The fever had broken. She was staring at me, hands out to ward me away.

"What?" Brilliant. I know. I should be an orator.

"I said don't move!" Pause. She looked me over. I raised a brow, and for some reason, she blushed. "I don't know what you did to me, but-"

"Did to you?" I scoffed. "Only fell in here with you, comforted you, let you bawl your eyes out on me, and gave you a pillow, apparently!" She looked down. My jacket was rolled up near her, a dent still there from her head. No wonder I was so cold. She blushed again. Intriguing.

"I- Oh."

"Yeah."

"You... you didn't hurt me?"

"You were delirious. What kind of monster do you think I am? Besides," I added quickly, "you're my only way out of here. You were too sick to phase, before, I guess." She opened her mouth, then shut it again.

"How did we get here, anyway?" I shrugged.

"Well, judging from your ramblings last night, you followed Wolverine out here. That was like, three days ago now. I was on patrol, and heard you singing, and followed your voice. Fell in here. Twisted my ankle, too. Hurts like a bitch." I winced as I got to my feet. She nodded, standing as well.

"Oh." She looked woozy, and leaned against the side of the pit for a moment. I didn't offer to help. It was embarrassing enough having admitted that I'd actually been _nice_ to her the night before.

"So, Kit-Kat, what are the chances of you getting us out of here?" I could have added a biting comment. I really could have. But damn it, that annoying feeling was still there. She was pale, and obviously tired, and looked like she needed someone to give her a bowl of chicken noodle soup. She blinked, and then stretched out her hand.

"Okay." Hesitantly, I took it. Just like that? I'd expected more of a job convincing her to help me. There was a spooky little chill, and then we were rising through thin air, and then down safe on the ground. She let go of my hand and I shivered.

"Eesh," I said. Very manly, I'm aware. She smiled warily.

"You sound like Bobby. He did the same thing the first time I phased him." I gave her a dirty look.

"Never compare me to the Popsicle."

"Oh, yeah," she said lightly. "I guess you did get annoyed about that last night." I snorted, then froze, blanching.

"You remember?" Now, the look on her face greatly resembled a smirk.

"Mostly. It's coming back. The fever was breaking already, I guess." I gulped. Did that mean she remembered me coming over and hugging her? Telling her that I was there for her? Oh, God. Please, no.

"Uh, you know, you were pretty far gone. I didn't want to, you know, scar you for life or something when you couldn't even fight back," I said hastily, trying to backtrack. Her smile got a tad less wary, and she bit her lip.

"John?" She interrupted me easily, ignoring my irritated glare. Before I could make the sign against evil or jump away or light her on fire, she'd stepped up and pressed a sweet, gentle kiss to my left cheek. "Thank you." With that, she was off and running, heading, no doubt, to the bus station a few miles down, in the nearest town. With her ghosty abilities, it probably wouldn't take her long to get there.

I am ashamed to admit that, as I turned to head back to camp to pack my things (because surely, we weren't staying here any longer), I had the silliest, most open grin on my face that I'd worn in a long, long time.

Not such a bad birthday, after all.


End file.
